


A Maidservant Named Merlin

by Lassroyale



Series: Maidservant Merlin Verse [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Merlin, Always a girl, F/M, Genderbending, Genderfuck, Girl!Merlin, Heterosexuality, Romance, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassroyale/pseuds/Lassroyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In which Merlin finds herself maidservant to a handsome prince and discovers living with royalty is as far from charming as she could imagine.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Maidservant Named Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of the Maidservant Merlin series. As the title implies, this is basically a retelling of Series 1 with an 'always a girl' Merlin, though definitely not episode-by-episode. ; )
> 
> Please enjoy!

###  **Part the First:**

#####  _'A Maidservant Named Merlin'_

 

Long before Merlin arrived in Camelot, she knew she was trash. Her blood wasn't blue; it was red, common. Her mother was of peasant stock, her unrefined bloodlines reflected in the broadness of her face and coarseness of her hands and feet.

Merlin looked different from her though: she was tall and long-limbed, with a swash of pitch dark hair she generally wore tied back into a simple braid. She had a notably long neck and planes of smooth, pale skin that never seemed to tan. Her singular greatest feature, however, was her eyes - as blue and as rich as lapis lazuli.

She should have been beautiful. She wasn't.

Merlin was too angular and her gait coltish, like she'd been passed over for all of the charms that made a woman graceful. She was almost gangly, a newborn fawn who was all shaky legs and no heft. Her breasts, though pert and round, lacked the heaviness to fill out her loose tunics. Most men thought her height was a detriment, too tall to talk down to; too tall to tame.

And Merlin was wild.

When she was a child she played with the local boys. She'd come home with deep grass stains on her knobby knees and scrapes on her elbows. She'd grown fast and she, with Will at her side, had dominated the fortresses that the she and the other boys built. However, by the time they'd begun to notice the village girls (and Merlin was excluded from this category) they'd cast her out of the circle.

Only Will still hung around and perhaps as compensation or maybe a matter of practicality, she'd given Will her maidenhead in a field of wildflowers near the village. It'd been an awkward affair and they'd tried it a few times after that, but it drove a rift in their friendship. It changed things. At least she'd learned very quickly an incantation to prevent her womb from being fertilized, much to her mother's relief.

Plus, Merlin was fairly certain that this whole "sex" deal should last more than a handful of minutes, at least if the stories from some of the prettier, more promiscuous village girls were anything to go by.

She was allowed in those circles only because she was female. Even still, Merlin preferred to spend time on her own rather than suffer the pitying stares and often cruel comments that nipped at her ankles as she passed by. She had little patience for it. She had better things to do.

She had her magic.

Her magic was precisely what had landed her the unfortunate job as Prince Arthur's maidservant. The king had declared it a reward for saving the prat's life. Arthur had taken one look at her and stated, "You'd make a better man." Merlin had replied, "And you make a perfect fool, _sire_."

And that had been _that_.

 

### 

Being Arthur's maidservant had turned out to be a lot of responsibility, what with all the saving of his princely arse and polishing the endless amount of armor he seemed to always produce. Merlin discovered that she had less patience for suffering fools than she thought she did, while Arthur seemed to discover that he had a fondness for making her exceedingly vexed. Not only that, but he possessed the talent for digging himself right beneath her skin and sticking, his words and taunts echoing in her head for hours afterwards.

Merlin sighed as she watched Arthur critically eye the garments she'd lain out for him, before turning and ignoring him to stare out the window. Today was a tournament day or something like that - really, it simply meant that there was more for her to attend to, including figuring out how to get Arthur into all that damned polished armor of his. She drummed her long fingers on the windowsill impatiently as she looked out towards the practice field, where numerous standards from competing knights were flying in the wind outside of their tents.

"Really _Merlin_ ," drawled Arthur from directly behind her, "you were late this morning and now you can't even be a little patient with me? Today is an important day, after all."

Merlin turned and practically came nose-to-nose with Arthur. She was about his same height, a fact he seemed to always forget because his eyes widened in surprise and he took a quick step backwards. Merlin had to wonder if she were really _that_ ugly, before she banished the thought entirely, her mouth tugging down into a frown. "You're going to be sweaty and cranky all day," she complained, slouching back onto the windowsill a bit; she could see the lecture of, ' _manners, Merlin'_ warming on Arthur's tongue when he parted his lips.

 

Merlin absently sucked on the end of her braid, wetting the dark strands of hair as she looked back out the window. She heard Arthur count backwards from ten beneath his breath and shot him a cheeky grin. "You're the worst manservant I've ever had," he muttered.

"Maidservant," Merlin corrected. Now it was Arthur's turn to smile, though his was sharp with a cutting edge.

"Could've fooled me."

Later, Merlin was sure to tug the hairbrush through Arthur's blonde hair as violently as she could, her hand a fist around the handle.

 

### 

Merlin's prediction was only partially right: Arthur _was_ sweaty, but his spirits were bolstered by his victories for the day, so he was in a good mood overall. He'd loaded Merlin with his armor (how he reckoned she was going to carry all of it, she didn't know) and then waltzed off with some of his knights, no doubt to drink and be congratulated. Merlin swatted a loose tendril of raven-black hair from her face in exasperation and trudged to the armory.

At least magic made the load considerably lighter.

Merlin had just finished cleaning and placing Arthur's armor in its spot, when she heard a noise like the soft rasp of fingernails along stone. Thinking it a rat or maybe well, a rat, Merlin ferreted out the source of the noise and came face to face with...a _shield_. Huh.

After a moment she identified the snake emblem as belonging to Sir Valiant. Her upper lip curled in distaste - the way that man basically drooled on Morgana's skirts as soon as he laid eyes on her, hadn't done anything to make him seem very valiant in Merlin's eyes. She straightened and began to turn away, when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. When she looked back at the shield, one of the snakes winked at her.

Merlin couldn't stop the gasp that pushed from her throat, nor could she help her clumsy stumble as she fell back into a rack of armor - Arthur's, she had _just_ finished putting it all together neatly! Suffice to say, she created a clamor that rang in her ears.

"Aren't you just a clumsy lass?" sneered a voice from the doorway. Merlin turned and saw Valiant standing just inside the doorframe, arms crossed, and a suspicious expression on his face. He unfolded his arms and reached behind him to shut the door behind him, quietly. Merlin ignored him and bit back the immediate retort that came to mind at his words. This wasn't Arthur; this man was as likely to have her whipped for insulting him as he was to command her to go fetch him some water. Instead she bent and began the painstaking process of replacing Arthur's armor on its rack - it'd be so much easier if she could just use her magic to nicely place the pieces where they belonged.

Valiant strode forward and caught her wrist, then whirled her forcibly so that she was facing him, pulled against his chest. His breath was stale with rot (likely a decaying tooth) and Merlin wrinkled her nose and tried to pull away. Valiant smiled and brought his face close. "You're Prince Arthur's maidservant, aren't you?" he asked. His eyes roved her face, appraisingly. "Too bad you're not pretty, otherwise you might get to warm the prince's bed instead of washing his soiled linens."

Merlin's pale cheeks flushed with angrily and she tried to yank out of Valiant's grip. She was used to being insulted; she'd been told that she wasn't beautiful her whole life. Still, she'd never been told so baldly. Admittedly, it chafed, it _stung_. "Yes milord," she ground out, as evenly she could, given the circumstances. "I am not as fortunate to be graced with such beauty as Lady Morgana, but few are. Now if you'd let me go, _please_ ," she spat the word like it were as foul as Valiant's breath, "I need to tend to other duties for the Prince."

Valiant didn't relinquish his grip. His fingers tightened around her arm, closing around her flesh until it hurt. "You're not pretty," he continued, his eyes fixed to her mouth, "but you _are_ striking. There's something strange about you." He looked around and made sure that the door was still shut. "Surely you can spare a moment to service one Camelot's guests?" He grinned now, revealing the rotting tooth. "Normally for someone like you I'd require a few tankards of ale but my blood is hot."

Merlin's eyes widened as Valiant swung her around abruptly and forced her against the wall. She knocked her mouth against the stone and her teeth cut her bottom lip. She felt blood dribble down her chin. Merlin felt fury flare hot and poignant behind her eyes as she struggled back. Words of magic were on her lips - it was forbidden, but she was prepared to use it to protect herself. Valiant fumbled with her skirts pushing them up, bunching them at her thighs as he kicked her legs apart.

Merlin began to weave her magic, her eyes turning gold, when the door to the armory opened suddenly. "What's going on?" a deep male voice exclaimed, which Merlin immediately recognized as Sir Owain's. "Get away from the lady, _sir_ , and get out of here." Owain pulled Valiant away and shoved him towards the door.

Valiant inclined his head towards the other knight, not even acknowledging Merlin as he strode from the room with his head held high. Cocky bastard. Merlin pulled herself up from her bent position and smoothed her skirts. Her hands were shaking with rage: Valiant nearly raped her and there was no consequence! She wanted to scream her frustration.

"Are you hurt?"

Merlin didn’t register that Sir Owain had spoken until he repeated himself. She looked towards the knight who regarded her stiffly, though with kindness in his eyes. She relaxed minutely and some of her fury ebbed from her. She touched her bruised, cut lip with one finger. "I'll live, milord," she replied, remembering her manners at the last moment.

"Good," said Sir Owain. He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket, which she took after a moment's hesitation. "Go get cleaned up and speak of this to no one." Merlin opened her mouth to protest, forgetting herself as indignation stormed up from within her to color the angular planes of her cheeks an ugly red. Sir Owain held up a hand, as if anticipating the tirade she was about to launch into. "Just go, milady," he said firmly, "do not tell the Prince." Owain hesitated, then added in a softer voice, "He will not understand."

The ugly truth dawned on Merlin and she turned away from Sir Owain and headed to the door, tears of fury shining in her eyes. She was just a servant - Arthur's maidservant, yes, but still a servant. If a knight wanted to bed her...

Merlin departed the armory without another word.

Later, at dinner, Arthur stopped her before she could leave his room. He approached her and lifted a hand to her face, curving his fingers beneath her chin. "What happened to your lip?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

Merlin averted her eyes and mumbled, "Nothing." Arthur held her chin for a moment longer before he dropped his hand. He dismissed her with a wave and didn't return her quiet, "Goodnight."

 

### 

It turned out that with her help (and a healthy dose of magic) all of Camelot soon found out what a scoundrel Sir Valiant was. In fact, Arthur killed him on the tournament field after Sir Valiant proved himself to be treacherous sorcerer. All of Camelot rejoiced in Arthur's victory, especially Merlin.

She stood amidst the celebration and looked as out of place as she could possibly look. She tugged at the unnaturally tight dress - she preferred looser bodices - and twisted her hands in front of her to keep from scratching at her face. Before the celebration, Gwen and Morgana had drawn her aside and demanded she tell them what had happened to her lip. Between Morgana's icy, relentless stare and Gwen's kind, soft voice, Merlin had relented and explained what had happened with Sir Valiant.

Morgana had been outraged and it was nice to have someone be angry for her, to understand how she felt. She'd insisted on going to Arthur and telling him, but Merlin had been resolute that Arthur not know. In the end, along with Gwen's urging, they had managed to keep Morgana from seeking Arthur out that instant. She'd relented, but Merlin had seen her pitying stare from the corner of her eye whenever Morgana looked at her.

"You aren't going to the celebration like _that_ ," Morgana had announced, her gaze sweeping Merlin from head-to-toe. "We can do better, can't we Gwen?" Gwen had agreed though Merlin caught the apology in her smile when she looked at her.

Morgana had dressed Merlin in a plain, deep blue gown that brought out the unique color of Merlin's eyes. It accentuated the length and slimness of her torso, and flared out gently at the hips to hide her boyish figure with a more feminine silhouette. Gwen had let her hair down, which Merlin was unused to, and Morgana had rimmed her eyes with something called kohl. Finally, they'd dabbed a bit of crushed red berry on her lips to give them a hint of color.

"Perfect!" they'd exclaimed in unison. When Merlin had looked into the mirror, she thought she looked silly but had smiled and thanked them, anyway.

Merlin decided that the stares she received at the celebration were mostly due to shock and perplexity, and not because she looked any different. She wanted to go wash her face but paused when she turned and caught Arthur staring at her from across the room. His expression was unreadable from that distance, though Merlin felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

She wondered if _he_ thought she looked different. Merlin immediately scowled - she shouldn't care what _he_ thought, at all.

She turned to leave and was confronted by Sir Owain. The knight looked a little nervous, maybe embarrassed, and the slightest bit drunk. "Milady," he said with an attractive smile, "would you dance with me?"

Merlin was taken aback and she hemmed and hawed for a moment, completely forgetting her manners, when Sir Owain took her by the hand and led her to the dance area. She began to protest but Sir Owain simply laughed and placed his hand on her hip and began to lead her through a series of steps that she didn't know. Merlin stepped on his feet and elbowed other dancers in the side as she gamboled wildly with Owain, managing to make it through a fast waltz and a slower dance, before the knight let her go with a promise of more dancing to come.

Merlin grinned widely, very unlady-like, and began to work her way to the refreshments. She felt a hand snake out of the crowd and close around her upper arm. She turned and saw Arthur. He looked furious. Without a word, Arthur dragged Merlin through the celebration and out into the hallway, not pausing until they came across an empty corridor. He released her arm and Merlin immediately whirled on him.

"What was that for?" she demanded, irritated.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest and looked her up and down, condescendingly. "What's this all about Merlin? You look foolish."

That _hurt_. After everything she had done for Arthur (albeit without his knowledge) he still only saw fit to insult her. She felt tears spring from nowhere, frustration, loneliness, and plain bruised feelings finally coming to the surface. The tears tracked down her face as she fisted her hands at her side. "Morgana and Gwen did it," she said, and gave him a stubborn, churlish look.

Arthur snorted. His expression clearly stated what he thought of Morgana and Gwen's little project. "Take it off this instance," he commanded.

Merlin set her jaw. She didn't try to fight back the tears. "No," she said, meeting his eyes.

"I think you forget who you are talking to," said Arthur menacingly, taking a step forward. Merlin stood her ground. He drew close enough that she could see the rings of dark blue surrounding Arthur's pupils. Merlin raised her chin.

"No," she repeated. She saw Arthur frown and drop his gaze to her red-stained lips.

"As your prince, I command you to take off this ridiculous make-up." Arthur's voice was pitched to threaten.

"I won't," said Merlin, resolutely.

"What happened to your lip?" asked Arthur suddenly. It threw Merlin off and she blurted the truth before she could stop herself.

"Sir Valiant accosted me in the armory."

The color drained from Arthur's face, but two pinpricks of ruddy hue mottled his cheeks. He grabbed Merlin by the shoulders tightly, fingers trembling. "Did he-?" He didn't need to finish the thought.

Merlin, stunned by the passion she saw in Arthur's eyes, mutely shook her head. Her hair shifted around her shoulders, straight and black. Arthur released her. He turned his back and began to walk away without another word. "I know you think I'm trash," Merlin murmured as he moved away from her, loud enough that she knew Arthur could hear, "I just thought it would be nice to feel pretty for a night."

Arthur paused, mid-stride. He looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a brief, complicated glance she couldn't decipher. "You're not pretty," he said, "you're _Merlin_."

He departed and Merlin, after a long moment, left and washed the make up off of her face.

 

(To be continued...)


End file.
